


This Is Only A Test

by sweetsnow73



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild canon divergence, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsnow73/pseuds/sweetsnow73
Summary: Workplace hazards at Arkham include inmates and accidental love confessions.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Reader
Kudos: 71





	This Is Only A Test

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a dream I had and as such disregards continuity, but is set in Nolanverse.

The day had started with a hot shower and a fresh towel from the drier, so as close to perfect as possible. If you could have jumped back into bed and ignored responsibilities all together, it actually would have been perfect. But Gotham was not a place of perfection, real life seldom is. It was a city of stolen moments that one could string together to make something beautiful.

You frown at your own reflection in the bathroom mirror, you repeated to yourself that it was up to you to see the best out of any day. Not that you hated your job, you were just the sort to prefer to sleep in whenever possible.

You watch the clock as you nibble on your breakfast bar and mentally reviewed the schedule for the day. Long sessions in the morning and afternoon, then dictation, a standard but long day.

You make one last check of your bag, then head for the bus stop. You didn't bother with a car when the bus got you almost everywhere, in Gotham it was one of the best systems in the country.

The early morning fog on the commute was rather peaceful, people generally were more subdued. Around you there was quiet muttering and some people even dozing off. You sipped your poison of choice for the caffeine wake up. The bus was packed and you found yourself thinking about the people around you. About their jobs, their families, addictions and dreams. When your stop finally came around you realized you had passed the hour or so in your own head. With no one to talk to on the bus it at least wasn't boring.

The walk to the front doors of the Asylum was just as calm. Cracked side walks, cracked walls, the half hearted attempts at repairing the molding and updates to the building over the decades made for a picture of architectural odds and ends. Elegant but with an air of sadness.

Coworkers flooded in, it had become a type of morning ritual to stand around and chat in the lobby. The patients had to be woken up among other things so there was almost always time for it.

You mull around the lobby talking to friends, and friendly acquaintances. Truthfully there was a small number of people you felt you could trust, so many seemed to be out for their own goals and were way too eager to push others down to get what they wanted.

Eventually it was just you and your shortest friend, Harleen. She was telling you about her weekend, which was 'ruined beyond all repair' by a horrible date.

You tried not to turn your gaze away from your chatty friend but you had to see. From your position in the lobby you could see some of the way down the hall, a certain colleague had a tendency to favor avoiding the typical early morning socialization. He would be a shadow in your peripheral if you weren't actively looking for him.

“So, is your boyfriend here yet?” She was smirking, devilishly.

You sputter.

Nothing like a crush to make one deflate back into a teenager with poor self esteem. Didn't help that it was too easy to ruffle your feathers about the whole thing.

“We’ve been through this Harleen!” You squeak.

She laughs, and you have to smile at yourself. For as juvenile it makes you feel, it also makes you feel happy. The last time this happened was ages ago and had been a complete disaster. Just as long as he never, ever, ever, finds out everything should be fine.

A gentle poke into your side to get your attention.

“He’s wearing that tie you like…” she points and you snap your head towards the direction she pointed.

“The one that brings out his eyes-?”

No one there, your friend is trying to contain her laughter. Her earrings are shaking in the effort.

“Harleen if I didn’t love you so much, I would punch you.”

A tiny snicker escapes her mouth. You playfully smack her arm.

All too soon it was time to get to work helping the sick under belly of Gotham get better. You could imagine some of your coworkers had some kind of god complex about their jobs. You rather liked focusing on the whole concept of 'helping people', not 'flame my ego'.

It was around eleven when you noticed the fog wasn’t burning off, you had stopped on the second story to look out the large windows. You didn't think too much on the fog itself, you were hoping to see the few maple trees in the yard. Gotham had too few trees, too few leaves in the fall. After opening the window you could smell the crisp air, it was a nice jolt to the system. The breeze brushes against your face and you think about your day already.

What a deliriously average day.

Until it wasn’t.

**…**

According to the plan the alarm would sound soon. A test he had planned for sometime now.

To his coworkers it would appear to be an inmate break. He would, of course, be safe, he had gotten many inmates leniency in court. Most of the ones he had scheduled to be released into the halls were ones that should follow his orders.

It would be an educational experience.

There were a few rooms that had been partially reinforced for such occasions. Safe rooms for staff to huddle into and hide and if nothing else they had regular rooms with regular doors. He didn't ask for his coworkers safety, the men hadn't promised it.

Many variables to his plan, much could go wrong but maybe that was half the fun.

Soon the distinct alarm went off. One of a few that **every** staff member should recognize, they had certainly drilled it into him at orientation.

He hummed to himself and looked at his watch. Right on time. What would develop from here he had, unfortunately, no guarantees. Only hopes.

The alarm was interrupted by security advising everyone to head for safety. _Block doors, yadda yadda…_

Coming directly towards him was a coworker. His initial plan had been to use some of the many back halls to observe his plan unfold but...

He tried to recall information on this one. He couldn’t remember talking to her directly, but her face had been at meetings and such. He’s seen her around others, very chatty with them. Easy to laugh. Reactive. Potentially emotional, could be interesting.

He left her in the hall, leaving the door open to the room he had been near. An invitation to hide. He could adapt to the situation.

Sure enough she makes her way in, huffing and puffing.

Quietly as possible she closed the door. Coherent or fearful enough to think that a door slamming would give away her location.

The tiny door lock was clicked into place. This was merely a forgotten storage room. Boxes and tarps other unknown things everywhere. A tiny faint light was all that illuminated the space. Enough to see, but not enough to be comforting.

When she finally catches her breath he speaks.

“What if someone else needs sanctuary?”

A high squeak was his reply, he was correct in assuming she hadn't seen him at all before coming in.

A few things cross her face. He sorts them out as fear, of course, surprise, then something he doesn’t place. Awkward shifting from one hip to the other, refusal to make eye contact with a slight fidgeting with her fingers.

“H-Hey, erm, Hello I mean.”

There isn't much to look at in the room, he found himself a slightly less dusty box and sat. He waits and watches.

“I guess…they should knock?” She immediately grimaces.

He blinks in the dim lighting, allowing her to ramble if she wishes. She's the one being watched after all, he just had to play a role and watch.

“No, I suppose that’s stupid isn’t it?”

She sits on her own box, her eyes shift, she might be listening. Her eyes look down and they set. Fear was leaving her. She'd settled into this reality in which there were a unknown number of violent criminals running around. Her safety on the line.

He had anticipated her doing anything except letting a cool resolve over come her.

“What do you suppose happened?”

“Couldn’t imagine.”

She’s not watching him closely, he can fake a frightened tone but she’s not looking for fear.

She’s looking for information, while normally a noble pursuit it could mean trouble for him.

_If_ she were clever enough.

Her brow was furrowed and he takes a moment to clean his glasses, it was far too dusty in the room, and they sit in silence.

Given his limited information on her this was surprising. His impression was one of noise, she should be incoherently babbling to herself or something similar.

In the silence there was the faint noises of chaos below their feet. Alarms screeching and people yelling.

“Not to be alarming but that doesn’t sound good.”

He let out a noise, more dignified than a snort but not by much. The absurdity of attempting humor given the situation had caught him off guard.

He cleared his throat.

She was smiling.

Her grin twitched, his best guess was she was trying not to but couldn’t stop. In his experience women smiling ended with nothing good.

She turned her gaze away, pleased with herself.

**…**

You think at some point your life would make sense. And yet, here you were, in a locked room with... _him_. If it weren’t for the fact that she couldn’t do any of this, you would blame Harleen.

Which of course make you think about what was going on out there. You refused to humor the thought that by this time tomorrow some of you could be dead and on a slab at the morgue.

All things considered Dr. Crane was handling things well. Which was very good, because you were focusing on the practical in order to keep yourself together. You couldn’t handle someone loosing it right now, but on the other hand it would help you not focus inward on yourself. It was better not to test the waters, last thing you needed was to be sobbing in a dusty storage space.

Despite everything some small part of you was glowing. You made him laugh, kind of. You can’t remember him ever making any noise even remotely like a laugh before, which of course had to remind you of other things.

Eventually your brain tossed out a weekend you spent with Harleen, a type of sleep over at your apartment. Odd conversations ranging from typical girl talk to complaining about how Freud was full of himself.

Harleen had asked you why you liked him. She said his disposition was gloomy, his personality was stuck up and his resting bitch face scared small animals and children.

You firmly informed her that he had a number of lovely features. Such as when he started in on a speech his eyes got a mischievous twinkle in them like he was hiding something, that people who don’t smile often have the best smiles because you have to fight tooth and nail to get it to happen and ' _damn it Harleen I bet he has a cute crooked smile and I’m WEAK_ ’, followed by a solid hour of gushing over his published works that ended with Harleen with her jaw dropped.

“You two are gonna adopt and turn your kids into the nerdiest babies ever.” Was her only reply, said with a devilish smile and her own mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

What little joy the memory brought was quickly sobered at the very obvious fact that you had no idea if she was okay. If any of this would be alright.

In the storage room there seemed to be nothing but time to think. Dr. Crane was not a chatty man, much like you had assumed from what little observations you had made.

Silence can be great to think unless it overwhelms. Like it was starting to now. You just wanted to return to your normal, average day.

One moment you were opening a window to smell the trees in the yard and the next-

You sat up suddenly.

“I have...an idea.”

**…**

She almost startles me when she stands up. Almost.

This should be interesting.

“Okay so there are a few windows down the hall, I was looking out them when everything went to hell in a well crafted hand basket, but if we can get them open enough the fire escape is right there and boom pow outta this joint. Not that spending time with you is deplorable just figured you’d rather not die inhaling decades old dust particles that’s probably laced with lead now that I think about it.”

There was that noisy side he was expecting. Unraveling everything that had just been thrown at him, he couldn’t contain his imagination providing to him a list everything that could go wrong. This whole situation had developed in a direction he hadn't anticipated.

She turns towards him, unsure but she had a hopeful tone to her voice.

“I know its risky but we have no idea what’s going on… I cant promise anything but, I guess, if we try I’ll do my best to get you outta here.”

It didn’t matter to him. He would be safe, but what could happen next was too tempting not to see through to the end. Odd though, that she would volunteer to be responsible for his safety.

He ended up being the one to peek out into the hall.

“All clear…”

After shuffling out of the door, there was a sudden drop to the atmosphere. Out of the frying pan and into the fire wasn’t lost on his companion.

The alarm was sounding still, covering the noises of shouts and the occasional scream. His hand twitched, the desire to see it all came back to him. Run off, leave her behind.

When a hard loud crash reached them, from below, he found his hand was now being held. Firm but not tight, her shaking was faint, a whisper of her internal chaos.

“This way.” Afraid but undeterred.

She probably didn't even realize what she was doing, other than trying to escape. For the sake of watching this disaster unfold naturally he doesn't pull away, rather follows her gentle pull.

The large windows that she had mentioned was an impossible amount of distance away, the issue, as far as he could tell, is that the hallways had nothing to hide behind. He contemplated telling her this, to see her falter but a choice is never made.

A group of three men in inmate uniforms spot them.

  
**…**

The men are not ones you recognize, which could either be a good thing, _unlikely_ , or a bad thing, **very likely**. It wasn't until you were violently grabbed and jerked away from the spot you had stopped in that you even realized that you had locked hands with the good doctor. Which any other time would be it's own can of worms.

  
  


They manhandled you and you just tried to stay calm, to focus on everything. It wouldn't do to panic.

You found yourself standing in front of the windows, which was good but the three men had circled around you enough to make it clear that there was no way out.

Standing was good, easier to make sudden movements. Only three of them, but that could go either way, there was a cold breeze of the open window on your back. This high up the windows didn’t have bars or even screens, a luxury no one had paid for. How do you turn this around?

You wished your brain could picture the fire escape properly but it was like remembering every fire escape ever all at once that they overlapped and a spark of terror made you think, _what if there wasn’t a fire escape at all?_ Could you have imagined it?

You were going to be one angry ghost if CHEAPNESS is why you die. If they had neglected to actually update the safety of the building.

“So we got ourselves two lost docs.”

“See I told you checking up here would be worth it.”

You glance at your companion.

It helps to focus on someone else. His face is hard to read but it was all you needed. Just the fact another person could be directly helped or hindered by your actions could give you the push you needed.

If you got the chance to do something, anything. To turn this around.

“Now see, we only needed one of them.”

“What do ya mean Charlie?”

“Must keep the odds in our favor, two is too close to three, see?” They spoke so casually, as if the implications weren't life and death.

Your thinking stalled for a moment.

Focus.

You had to focus. The apparent ring leader was smiling.

“I have a proposition for you.”

**…**

This had not been part of the plan. He glances at each of their faces, he would remember them for this whole mess.

Looking at her, he could only note the anger. Pure anger.

“I think it’s only fair that you choose ma'am, either you kill him or we kill you.”

This was getting far from his control.

He watched as one knife was handed to her. As the other two flash their own weapons, where had they gotten such things he could only guess, because he certainly hadn't provided them.

They wanted to watch her squirm, watch the fear in her eyes grow. He could at least faintly appreciate such desires.

He could talk them down, he was fairly certain, if given enough time. His safety was no longer assured.

Ultimately it was her next actions that would make or break the situation.

Was she scared to die? Of course, but how scared? Enough to attack him? They all watch her, the sounds of chaos below fade away as the pin point of everything becomes the blade in her hands.

He could, if needed attack her, to save himself-

Somewhere in his mind he noted the anger melting away, calmness and acceptance replacing it.

“I, suppose its now or never,” her gaze on her hands and the knife, “To be honest Dr. Crane I’ve had an infatuation with you for a while now. I just needed to say that.”

Then she stabbed the closest man in the chest. A third option the men had not anticipated. They had planned for her to be too afraid to attack them, it was a large miscalculation. Today seemed to be full of them.

“GO DAMN IT GO.”

“SHIT”

“WHAT THE FUCK”

The window was open and from some unknown place he found the strength to pull them both out the window. It had been a blind panic, the type of thing he hadn’t felt in years.

The metal creaked in protest. His mind only processed the sensation of running, the impression of someone with him.

The sound of the crunching grass followed them.

The sight of flashing lights caused him to stop at the edge of the parking lot.

She ran into him, a thud and then a metallic clang. She had carried the knife, it was covered in blood. Something about it was the only thing he could see.

The reflection of red-blue-red-blue on the blade matched the rhythm of his heart beat.

This had escalated quickly. Beyond what he had planned for. Far beyond what he _could_ have planned for.

“D-Doctor Crane?”

Her hands hover in his sight. Normally a comforting sight that was twisted because of the blood on her hands.

He can't stop himself from grabbing them, firmly holding them.

For his life, she had stained herself.

“We’ve got two over here!” A distant voice called out.

**…**

The medic had given you a once over and let you be. In the resulting solitude the scope of everything had settled into you.

The luck, the pain, the fact that you stabbed a person.

You cried, ashamed of yourself for crying in public, for what you did, but still you cry. You don't know for how long but it must have been long enough because the police went in to restore order. At points you think a medic is talking to you, handing you things, you can't stop, tears fall, even if the actual sobbing subsided.

You only stop completely when you hear a familiar voice and hug one of your coworkers. Slowly more friends, acquaintances and even hated coworkers are accounted for. Harleen is a mess but alive, you calm down slowly, tears drying, peace returning.

You end up seated on the curb, moved out of the ambulance for others to be looked at. You are tired but looking up at the sky, the fog gone. It was trying to be a clear sunset, pinks washed the sky between the near constant clouds. Painfully normal.

A person sits next to you and its him.

Realization about everything you said had come and gone, shame had burned away like the fog. If you had died you would have died with no secrets, you would have died hoping he got away.

He's a mystery in his own right, you can't expect anything to change, but he's safe. You kept your promise to him in a way, even though he probably hadn't taken it seriously.

“Are you, you alright Dr. Crane?”

He doesn’t look at you. He just slowly reaches for one of your, now clean, hands. You let him, oddly content with this small piece of happiness. A small beautiful stolen moment.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My original note at the end of my word document says “I'd say sorry for the Anchorman reference but nah” and it's been so long I don't even????? Past me was on a secret level of reference that current me can't even remember.


End file.
